


Tangent

by ironbutterfly25



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Multi, Not Enough Smut Actually, Rare Pairings, Shameless Smut, Uncharted Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironbutterfly25/pseuds/ironbutterfly25
Summary: They were too in love with their sins to fall for another.





	Tangent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLadyFrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/gifts).



Four years after Raccoon City, Leon met her.

In a dinner orchestrated by no other than Claire, he met the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members. Rebecca, Barry, Chris, Claire, him, and  _her_  seated in a simple round table in a restaurant in New York, eating medium rare steak that didn't really appealed to him.

The dinner dragged on. He felt awkward, standing out like a sore thumb, being called 'rookie' made it harder to blend in. He had no actual ties with these people. His connection with them was traced on a thread of horrors better forgotten and not revisited.

He noticed things though. The way Jill Valentine had lovely lips. Eyes a pair of sparkling pale blue. Hair thick and a perfect shade of dark chocolate.

She had been throwing glances at his direction. The glances thrown whenever Chris grumbled something right beside her. Her brows would furrow everytime, like she was done entertaining what the older Redfield was unhappy about.

Drinks were meant to be had later that night.

It didn't exactly happened as planned.

But something better did.

* * *

"You and Claire look good together.", Jill said, easily clearing a shot glass of mixed vodka. The others didn't feel like getting wasted. Lucky for him, that left them  _alone together_.

"We're not together.", he replied honestly. Claire had been... dodgy for the past years. They tried to be in a relationship for a time but it didn't work. They kept in touch, met several times monthly, went on what he viewed as 'dates'. They fucked, once in a while, with the 'just friends' card held tightly in her hands.

He couldn't blame her, especially with each intimacy being preluded by alcohol and mentions of Ada Wong. He liked Claire... a lot. But he couldn't commit somehow and he knew that she sensed his lack of motivation to get tied down. She was too smart of a cookie not to notice his reluctance.

But Claire stuck around.

And that was enough for now.

"You and Chris look good together." It was his turn to take a shot. The liquor left his thoughts slightly swimming, left his body light and warm.

He simply loved alcohol.

"We're not together.", Jill mimicked his earlier reply. He nodded in acknowledgment of her answer, before pushing a brimming shot glass towards her direction. They took a shot at the same time. The two of them relished in the burn born from the debilitating liquid.

"You know Albert Wesker?" They both said at the same time. Not exactly questioning, only validating information.

"He was your Captain. The Captain of S.T.A.R.S., wasn't he?" He watched her tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. His eyes fell on the curve of her neck, downwards to the shining sweat gathered on her collarbones, her tube top riding low...

His alcohol addled mind arrived then in a conclusion - Jill Valentine looked so good in blue.

"Yeah. He turned out to be some deranged scientist, used us and betrayed us all." Her tone lacked venom, lacked hate. All he could detect was a tinge of hurt and longing. He was missing something and felt compelled to fill in the blanks. But deep thinking had become a bit difficult in the last half hour. So he opted for babbling about himself.

"I met a woman when Raccoon was..." He clicked his tongue. The recollection still left a foul taste in his mouth. "Ran over. Her name was Ada."

Jill smiled a little, nearly imperceptible. And it made her glow and made him entertain things he shouldn't be dwelling in too much.

"You like her."

He did. But he wouldn't confess to that.  _'I got fucking attached to a shady woman whom I met in no less than a day. Attached like a lost puppy.'_  It would only make him appear stupid and easily manipulated.

"She helped me." Leon reached for another shot, quickly throwing it back down his throat, wincing at the burn. "I discovered she was working for Wesker. Doesn't matter now I guess... She died helping us out."

Leon leaned closer to Jill, as if he was about to tell her a secret, when he only wanted to share her personal space. She didn't move away.

"I keep thinking about why she helped us, if she was in league with Wesker all along."

"Your charm maybe, Kennedy. Is she the reason why you can't be with Claire?" Jill's eyes looked clearer and bluer up close. He found it easy to get lost in them.

"Is Wesker the reason why you can't be with Chris?", he asked. His fingers unconsciously ran up her bare arm. Liquid courage emboldening his actions.

"I was fucking Wesker, rookie."

He supposed the revelation was alarming.

But the words merely floated in his head.  _Damn alcohol and his tolerance_. The only word he could focus on was 'fuck'. And he hoped he would be fucking her before the night was done.

* * *

A classic studio. Standard twin size bed. Powder blue lounge seat by the floor to ceiling windows.

Despite the splitting headache, Leon could tell he was in the right room, the one he was meant to stay in for the night. With a blurry eyesight, he followed the slope of the naked back resting beside him.

It seemed his hopes had been answered.

"Jill?", he called out. His hand hovered on her shoulder, hesitating to touch like a green boy. She turned to see him, smudged mascara and bleeding lipstick - an irresistable hot mess. Her lips plump pink and swollen from no doubt were his kisses.

"Morning.", she greeted softly, a foxy smile on her face. "Sleep well?"

His mouth opened to say something smooth, but his brain stopped functioning when the sheets fell away from her body.

She slithered out of the bed in all her naked glory. And he couldn't do anything but stare at her dumbfounded.

Jill disappeared in the bathroom. Then the blinds shielding the bath from the bedroom were being pulled out of the way, giving him a luscious view. The tub soon filled up with warm water and he watched her slip inside.

She knocked on the glass, waving at him, making a phone sign with her hand. "Chris would call. Don't answer.", she mouthed. And he reached for her phone on the nightstand, promptly enough it started vibrating,  _CHRIS REDFIELD_  plastered on the screen. Leon made a show of depositing the ringing phone in the drawer containing the bible.

Jill laughed at the display, pleased and soundless. White foam swallowing her up. And she was beckoning him to join her.

* * *

A year later in February of 2003, Leon met Jill again. Winter in Moscow was splendid, everything was covered in a light layer of snow. A mission had just been finished and he was enjoying the little time he had before another was thrown his way. He never thought he would be good at espionage. But there he was anyway, Bond-like and all.

The bar lounge of St. Regis had a well-stock liquor collection. And he had treated himself to a bottle of rich bourbon, all his to consume, a perfect companion for the cold winter night. People watching and alcohol drinking had become his hobby. So there he was - seated in a plush sofa chair when his eyes found her in the small crowd.

Dark crimson dress. Hem barely brushing her knees. A simple cut that hugged her body in all the right places. But Jill Valentine couldn't be dressed in alluring red and just be in Russia at the  _same time_  and at the  _same place_  as him...

"Waiting for someone?", a vaguely familiar voice said. Then a slim figure clad in powder white entered his line of sight. Thoughts of Jill flew out of the window as Leon dropped his glass of bourbon. It didn't shatter on the carpeted floor, but good liquor was spilled all the same.

"Ada..."

The ghost of Ada Wong slid into the chair opposite his. Her composed image kept splitting, fracturing to give way to the broken picture of her surrounded with flames - bleeding and dying in his arms.

"Hello, Leon." His name rolled off her tongue like a sinful melody. Her lips brushing his... a chaste memory. Her eyes were hooded and coy just like the day he met her in that rotten town. "I suppose you have questions for me." She pulled the silken shawl around her form, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"This..." His thoughts became foggy, confusion making him angry. "You can't be here. You died in Raccoon."

Ada reached for him, placed a delicate hand on his, caressing softly. Her amber eyes glittered under the chandelier. Real and alive. He snatched his hand away as if stung.

The rejection didn't affect Ada. Her lips curved in a perfect smile, not giving away anything. Cold sweat had formed at the back of his neck. And he remembered he was unarmed.

"There's no rush. We've got all night, Leon.", she promised, casually waving for a waiter to attend to the mess he made.

From the corner of his eye, Leon saw Jill leaving with someone. Tall, blond, suited up in all black - a walking bad news.

* * *

His eyes trailed the length of a bare leg, following as deft fingers pulled on the straps of pointed heels. Leon averted his eyes as Ada continued to dress, watching the sun rays slip into the flimsy curtains.

He was disappointed that he had not been drunk enough, now he got to see her leave at the first sign of daylight. She surprisingly stayed, didn't leave when the lights of his brilliant brain had flickered to nothing. She  _stayed_  and he still couldn't figure her out, not one bit - coming back from the dead, purposely approaching him. Her motives continued to escape him.

"Want me to leave these?", she asked, tone teasing. When he craned his neck to look, she was holding up her pair of lace panties.

"This amuses you, isn't it?" He mustered a hardened glare, feeling fed up of being toyed with.

"It's a 'no' then."

"Why are you really here?", he asked for most likely the last time as she finished freshening up.

"I already told you, Leon. It's nothing but a kind of holiday. I saw you at the bar and here we are." The holiday excuse couldn't be more believable when she reached down and pulled an SP2009 under the sofa chair's cushion. The black barrel glinted as if taunting him.

"You're here... with  _him_." He sat on the bed, surrounded with velveteen pillows and fine covers, trying to decipher the woman he had just slept with.

Ada turned to him, placing a foot on the beige ottoman, enticing him with a show of her securing a gun on her thigh holster.

"Playing the pronoun game so early in the morning?"

"You're working for Albert Wesker. What is his business here in Russia?"

If Ada was amused before then she was more amused now. She smiled her usual smile, small and appraising, seemingly proud that he had the balls to bring up her infamous employer.

"I don't think I can talk about Albert Wesker's business without compromising my position in this game of his." She picked up her purse, most likely loaded with a sharpened knife than a compact mirror. "Why don't you try interrogating a friendlier face..."

He immediately thought of Jill as Ada headed to the door.

"There are four royal suites in this hotel. And only one is occupied.", was the only intel she was willing to provide.

* * *

Leon didn't know what to expect.

He stood outside the carved ivory door, his shoulders weighed down by the weapons he was carrying, all hidden under his favorite leather jacket. He had never met the man, only saw a glimpse of him the night before. With his dumb luck, Wesker probably had a gun trained on him already on the other side. He still rang the bell anyway, contemplated on saying 'room service' in the last second, but the door cracked open all too soon.

He swiftly pulled his twin IMI Desert Eagles, armed and ready and expecting the worst.

Jill stood there, dressed in a light blue robe, short hair in a messy bun, clearly expecting someone else. She looked beyond surprised, eyes so big and so blue under the fancy light fixtures - a deer caught in the headlights.

"Leon?", she breathed out in disbelief.

"You alone here?" He didn't put away the guns as he took a peek into the lavish suite.

"Yes.", was her quick reply.

He looked at her. She was calmer than what he would expect, meeting his prying stare head on.

"Care to invite me in then?"

* * *

Everything was in palettes of gold, white, and silver. The dining table could seat eight guests. The sitting room was equipped with a chaise lounge and upholstered chairs. Elaborate paintings lined the fabric-covered walls. Fresh flowers arranged on every corner, giving a distinct floral scent to the room. But it couldn't defeat the acrid smell permeating the area.

Jill had been smoking, judging by the butts of cigarettes sitting on the ashtray.

"I guess you came here expecting to find me."

He followed her into the bedroom. Articles of clothing were scattered around, not every piece belonging to a woman. She disappeared into the walk-in closet. The rustle of clothes soon reached his ears. He deemed it appropriate to wait for her to get decent. Shifting the heavy curtain aside, he saw the Lubyanka Square from the window, blanketed with even more snow.

"Someone tipped you off?", she asked.

"You could say that." He let the curtain fall back into place, as she stepped back into the room in a pair of blue jeans and a loose white shirt.

Jill leaned on the door frame, studying him.

"You could put away your babies. He's not here."

He did put away the guns, but a crease had formed between his brows. All the analytic thinking would surely make a young old man out of him.

"Why are you here with Wesker, Jill?" She didn't even flinch at the direct question.

"He somehow knew I'd be in Moscow, made contact then and asked to see me."

"So you meet with him, chat him up, and end up in his bed like it's the most sensible thing in the world?"

Her face darkened. He knew it was out of line. They were hardly friends. One night stands couldn't exactly be categorized as friends,  _right_?

"We should probably talk about this in detail tomorrow. He just stepped out."

His imagination decided to run rampant, making up a scene where in Wesker returns to the suite and finds him there. It was a discomforting picture, especially not knowing which side Jill would be on if it ever happened.

"He's checking out tomorrow and you'll just let him leave?"

"I don't know, Leon. I don't see you locking your informant in handcuffs either."

* * *

Leon managed to secure a deluxe room right next to the royal suite. Several times he thought of calling up the USSTRATCOM. Several times he thought of calling up Claire, then eventually calling up Chris.

But he held off.

Jill had promised to go in detail the following day.

He opened the mini-fridge in the room, helping himself to a bottle of Carlsberg.

He decided he could wait that long, even if it meant letting a dangerous man go.

* * *

On the fine china, a piece of salmon sat at the center of cauliflower cream. Leon moved the peas around his plate, while Jill quietly ate on the other end of the dining table.  _Fancy lunch_ , he thought, guessing he ought to be grateful. But he was never a big fan of seafood, so no amount of garnish would make a fish dish more appetizing for him.

"You sure he won't just walk back in here, forgetting something like his fake passport, his lab keys, or maybe a goodbye kiss?"

"I'm quite sure.", was her calm reply. "Chris is on his way here. His flight is scheduled to arrive tonight."

"If he's after Wesker then he's obviously a little too late."

"We're launching an operation on Umbrella's Caucasus facility." The jab was ignored. "Wesker dropped some intel. A new bioweapon is being housed there. Some monster called T.A.L.O.S." Jill wiped her lips with the napkin, already finished with her meal.

"You don't think he's only setting you up?"

"Wesker's using...  _us_. It's nothing new.", she said, tone detached. She chose a dessert from the silver tray room service had brought in half an hour ago. "For now, our goal is the same - bring down Umbrella." Jill indulged in a panna cotta topped with raspberries. Leon watched her savor it, nonchalance in her movements.

"Is it safe to assume that  _your_  Ada is alive and well?" For a moment, her question caught him off guard. He reached for the glass of water and took a few comforting sips.

"She is in no way mine. But yeah, she appeared quite alive the other day."  _Definitely felt alive beneath him_.

"You well know what she's doing, what she has done, what she will do. And you let her go anyway..." she shrugged, feeding herself a small spoonful of custard. "We're on the same boat it seems."

Leon thought over what Jill had said, replaying how Ada swept back in his life in the simplest way possible - walk up to him in a fucking bar, how Ada swept him in her bed and how Ada walked out of the room and out of his life again.

Fleeting. A chase with no end in sight. Thrilling while it lasted.

"Is this the first time you saw Wesker after Raccoon?"

A far away look clouded Jill's face.

"No."

* * *

In 2003, Umbrella fell at the end of February.

In the course of the year, Ada made a habit of showing up in his missions. And Leon made a habit of having her in his bed by the end of each one.

It was not a healthy relationship.  _Hell_ , it wasn't even a relationship.

Telling himself she was not directly involved in whatever operation he was in seemed to get old in time. A worn out excuse. A broken record. But he had fallen in a vicious cycle. And he couldn't seem to get out of it.

Jill made a habit of confiding in him whenever Albert Wesker dropped by in her life.

And with each time, a bond seemed to have formed between the two of them. He often wondered why she came to him, half the time he was convinced that she was telling him so he could rat the bioterrorist to the U.S. government, the other half told him she simply had no one else to confess her sins to.

They were both aboard  _sinking ships_  after all.

* * *

"Congratulations are in order I guess.", Jill said, announcing her arrival in the suite.

Leon pulled himself away from the view of Gramercy Park, no longer fascinated by the yellowed leaves falling off the branches. He poked his head out of the bedroom to see Jill still standing by the door. A paper bag was in her hands, two bottles of red wine peeking through it. She had grown her hair out in the year that passed, now she had the dark tresses kept in ties at all times.

"I hope you didn't invite anyone else!", he warned before stepping out of the room. She gave him a smile before heading for the sitting area.

"Claire mentioned you guys met up last week." She busied herself by placing the bottles on the glass table. "Is this how you throw a get together now? Individual dates?" She teased and pulled out burgundy glasses from one of the cabinets.

"I can't really talk about Ada with her, can I?" Jill failed to suppress a laugh.

"Hold on. Let's wait for the pizza before you pour your heart out, soldier."

"Please tell me it doesn't have olives in it."

He really liked having her around.

* * *

Leon told her how Ada had aided him in his rescue of the President's daughter. Jill told him Wesker wouldn't take the betrayal lightly.

"I'm suppose to meet with him... in Terragrigia.", she said, refilling her glass with rich red liquid.

"What? You mean tonight?  _Right now_?"

"No. This weekend." There was a certain weight in her voice, like she was about to ask him to do something. "I... want you to come with me."

Leon searched Jill's face for more information. Her expression hardly gave away her emotions. But he had a feeling Wesker was the kind not to take break ups lightly either.

* * *

True enough, the suite was trashed. Broken glass littered the carpeted floor. The walls had been redecorated with bullet holes. Blood splatters here and there.

Jill was sitting on a surviving dining chair, a heavy revolver in her hand. She appeared uninjured. But the sight of her unblemished didn't ward off his worry anyway.

"What happened?!" He rushed to her, checking for hard to notice wounds.

"Same old.", she replied and pushed herself off of the chair, running a hand over her face.

"What do you mean same old? This is normal?! Is that what you're saying?!"

"I fought with him that's all. It's the same with every meeting. I'm just packing more heat this time.", she said in a calculated tone, best reserved for outbreak operations.

Leon thought it wise not to push her, for he could already see she was at the edge of breaking.

* * *

Later in the night, Jill would tell him it had to end somewhere. That she couldn't allow herself get dragged into his darkness any further. That she needed to end it. That she had to find where she really stood in the grand scheme of things.

 _Let go of him_.

And he thought he should do the same.

 _Let go of her_.

* * *

A standard room was then secured by him. A desk. A simple double bed. A mini-fridge filled with an assortment of alcohol he wouldn't touch.

It didn't matter anyway as he climbed on the bed and settled between her legs.

He couldn't remember that one night with her. He had been overly drunk that he couldn't recall one clear second, one hopefully filled with nothing else but pleasure.

But he was in no way intoxicated at the moment. So he let his eyes drink every inch of her. She had a few scars and one stood out, the one on her chest - like an exit wound of a .45 caliber.

Her whole body shuddered when he kissed it.

* * *

Leon left a hot trail down the valley of her heavy breasts, left a wet line down the dip of her abdomen as she sucked a breath in. He could already smell her in the air, her arousal seeping through the thin panties in heated waves.

His fingers hooked into her underwear, sliding them down her hips. Then her hands were suddenly on his, stopping his movements.

"Don't.", she said, breathing broken in pants. "It's..." He waited for the rest of her words but they never came. Her eyes were able to tell him enough though. It was a deed usually done by someone she would like to forget.

He eased up, capturing her soft mouth in a deep kiss. She expressed her thanks between the kisses.

Jill pushed against his chest, changing their position so she was straddling his body. She was otherworldly as she looked down on him, half naked - all perfect curves and soft slopes. Her hips rolling in circles, providing a torturous friction. He was powerless, unable to do anything besides pressing himself  _hard_  against her.

She dipped for a kiss that lingered in his bones. Then she made her way down his body, mouthing wet kisses all over his skin.

The black boxer briefs were soon discarded.

No protest was voiced out when she took him into her mouth.

Ada disliked giving head.

* * *

The sensation of her was incredible, scrambling his thoughts, making his fingers curl into the sheets.

Teasing swipes of her tongue. Mind-numbing contractions deep in her throat as she moaned.

His hand pressed her head down, gasping obscenely as she took him in even  _deeper_. His hips jerked into her mouth, frenzied and lost in the slick feel of her.

He soon spilled on her tongue. And she made quite the display when she  _swallowed_ all of his cum.

When he regained his breath, Jill was biting into her bottom lip, hand firm around his cock, stroking him back to hardness.

He was nearly pained by her ministrations. But his body more than welcomed the painful pleasure.

* * *

Her arms curled around one of the pillows. Back arched. Supple ass out.

He didn't waste time sinking into her skin. Her cries were muffled by the fabric as he started an unsteady rhythm.

The bed squeaked loudly with each thrust, headboard banging against the wall.

He got lost in her warmth, consuming him more the deeper he got into her. When their passion began to burn hotter, her tears began to stain the covers.

He knew all along that the emptiness inside her couldn't be filled by him.

But he still dared to try anyway.

* * *

In the morning after, he occupied himself with his guns. A fresh magazine of .44 magnum rounds was slid into his Mark XIX. The sun was already high. Jill was still asleep. And Leon was experiencing a sense of paranoia.

He felt like they were being watched. A hard to explain feeling of foreboding had taken residence in his gut.

There was then a knock on the door, solid and loud, reverberating in the small room.

He asked who it was, gun locked and loaded. There was no response.

Jill shifted under the covers, hardly disturbed.

Leon made his way to the door, hesitating on having a look through the peephole. He didn't want to risk a bullet straight in his eye, so he threw the door open, effectively slamming it against the wall.

An empty corridor stretched before him, filled with two parallel lines of similar looking doors.

No one was outside, only a bottle of champagne was there. Clear body, silver label, a strawberry colored concoction inside - NV Boërl & Kroff Brut Rosé.

He took the bottle inside the bathroom, poured its contents down the drain, not wanting to take the chance of being poisoned...  _worse_  infected by a viral agent in liquid form.

He doubted it was the day death would come to him in the form of Albert Wesker.

* * *

Ada Wong stopped showing up in his missions.

Later in the year, bioterrorists attacked Terragrigia, armed with a new virus named t-Abyss. The floating city was subsequently wiped off the map.

Around the same time in the following year, Hardvardville - a city not unlike Raccoon, suffered a t-Virus outbreak.

And in the year after that, Jill Valentine was declared  _killed in action_  at the Spencer Estate.

Albert Wesker didn't take betrayal lightly it seemed.

* * *

"She's in Africa."

He had hoped she would show up. He had hoped that his first course of action was anything but kissing her. He had hoped he could get what he needed without sleeping with her. But he knew he would fail one way or another.

He was, after all,  _bewitched_  by her.

"And for your sake, don't get in the way."

Ada pulled herself so close to him. It was uncharacteristic of her. And he couldn't find the urge to place distance between her and himself.

He had always been too  _in love with his sins_  to do the right thing.

And Jill seemed to be still in the same sinking ship as him.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Fall Out Boy a little too much and this is the result haha!
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, reviews/comments are appreciated~
> 
> :D


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